Page 2 of In Between Death and the Devil

A stab of pain in my side made me flinch and brace, but it subsided almost immediately. I prayed they wouldn’t make me wait much longer.

The old judge vacated the seat with a sour look on his face and stormed off as the younger man took his place.

The new judge met my gaze, and the vision of his death that slid over my sight made me gasp. He struggled in the grasp of someone, their mouth at his neck. Their face was obscured by a hooded cloak, but long, spindly fingers that ended in talons clutched him tight as they drank. The judge’s skin grew pale, and his movements slowed until he lay limp in his captor’s arms. When they dropped him to the floor, blood dripped from what could only be described as fangs.

A Wraith. I’d never seen one before, but there was no mistaking it from the stories I’d heard. Vampiric creatures that dwelled in the shadows, with a taste for human blood.

I blinked as the vision dissipated.

The judge’s eyes flicked between me and the paper spread in front of him. There was something snakelike about him. I prayed he hadn’t noticed anything strange.

“Maeve Merwood,” he said.

Blood roared in my ears, so I had to strain to hear.

“You are to be sentenced for the murder of your parents and brother. They were found on your family estate. That morning, your father’s workers heard you arguing with Mr. Colt Hardpike about your father’s merchant ring outside his office. Then you screamed. When they went to your aid, the bodies of your family were lying face up on the grass. Dead.”

I flushed hot with shame as the memory assaulted me.

“Cause of death was determined to be poison. A silver flask of it was found in your pocket.” I stiffened at the judge’s piercing look. “Mr. Hardpike said you were angry at him for breaking off your relationship and had vowed revenge. That you tried to frame him by planting your father’s ring on him and saying he stole it. You didn’t deny it.

“Even though the bodies showed no outward signs of poison, you offered no alternative explanation. Do you have anything to say now?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard enough to make myself bleed. I hadn’t denied it, and even though it killed me, I couldn’t tell him the truth. Contradicting Colt’s story would have meant revealing what really happened, and my gift.

I didn’t just see how people would die. If someone near me was dying, I felt it as if it were my own. The day my family died, the death I’d felt wasn’t theirs. It was Colt’s. One moment we were arguing, the next he was having a heart attack. I’ll never forget the choking pressure. Desperate to get rid of it, I pushed it away. Into my family. I transferred Colt’s death to them. I still didn’t know how, or how to stop it from happening again.

What I did know was that I didn’t want to find out what the authorities might do with that information. What they might make me do. Besides, Colt may have used me to steal my father’s ring, but he didn’t kill them. I did. If it hadn’t been for me, they would have still been alive. I deserved to be punished.

“No, your honor. I have nothing to say.”

“Very well.” He folded his hands in front of him, his eyes darting around the courtroom before fixing on me. “The court offers you a choice—prison or consignment to the convent of the Order of Death.”

My knees threatened to give out at his words. I wasn’t to hang. Relief warred with disbelief and dread. My curse and newfound ability to transfer and amplify a person’s death made me a threat to everyone. I quailed at the thought of being executed, but it was the safest of the sentences they could give me.

“Choose the convent,” Yellow Dress said through her teeth when I didn’t answer right away.

“I don’t deserve it,” I said, my voice low.

Prison meant cold stone walls, damp straw for a bed, vermin, little food and hard labor, leading to a slow, wasting death. I knew firsthand how dangerous it was, with so many dying around me. I’d survived a week there so far. My energy had been sapped, and it had been hard to breathe, but I’d managed to endure it without killing anyone. It was a fitting punishment.

The novices at the convent were known to have an ascetic lifestyle, one that involved physical pain as an offering to Death on behalf of departed souls, but most of them lived long lives. It was a gentle existence in comparison.

Despite the danger I posed to those around me, prison was where I belonged. Yet I couldn’t form the words to seal my fate.

The judge cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Consider your options carefully. Think about what each would mean.” His voice was low enough that only I, and Yellow Dress, could hear him.

I frowned. The judge before him hadn’t taken this kind of care with the prisoners before me. That, combined with the way his eyes constantly shifted around the room, made me distrust him. For a panicked moment, I wondered if he knew about my curse, but if he did, I doubted I would have been standing there.

His eyes flicked upwards and stayed there for a moment before settling on me again in a meaningful look.

Following his gaze, I looked up to see the statues above his head. The Devil’s shadow whip almost seemed to gleam as I stared, making me shiver, and I quickly moved on to Death and the scales in her hand. My lips parted as I realized what he might have meant.

Death’s Judges came from her convents. People volunteered to go to the In Between to become one, even though the only way to get there was to surrender your life. Something stirred in my chest at the thought, followed by a gentle pull. It wasn’t a sure path. Souls were known to become lost on the journey. It was more and more common, if the rumors were to be believed, but the risk didn’t bother me.

Assisting souls on their journey to their next life and balancing the need for justice with the need for mercy was a noble profession. If I were to go to the In Between as a Judge, I could atone for my family’s death and whatever I’d done in a previous life that had warranted being cursed in this one. The idea warmed me, and the pull intensified as the idea grew roots, planting itself in my mind. I’d been at the mercy of my curse almost my entire life. To have the chance to act was enticing. Seductive. I didn’t deserve such a thing, but I couldn’t shake the desire to go.

“For some,” the judge said, “it’s a calling, not a choice.”